Not Worth It
by LollipopVanity
Summary: Alistair is visited at the Hanged Man.


No one would know it, but there was now two Grey Wardens in that crowded room. One had just walked in the door, clad in familiar scouting armor and looking altogether uncomfortable in the sea of inebriates one could only find at the Hanged Man. The other was a patron, sitting in the single pocket of solitary on the other side of the room.

The woman warden judiciously moved away from the entrance before scanning the room, and then weaving her way through the bodies. While she was known for being lithe, even she could not make it through without bumping at least half a dozen shoulders. It was a carousal in the Hanged Man that night, though for what she didn't know, nor was it her reason for being there. Once she had reached the other side, she stared down at the other warden.

"Alistair."

"I didn't think I'd ever see _you_ again."

"...may I?"

"Who am I to stop you?"

The response was rhetorical, she knew, but it didn't stop the urge to refute it. Whether it liked it or not, he was once a prince of sorts, he was a Grey Warden. More importantly, he was still a human being capable and deserving of happiness, and thus allowed to turn away a visitor if he wanted. But he wouldn't have any of it, she knew all too well. So instead, she silently lowered herself into the seat across from him.

"I hope you're not here to mitigate any guilt," he stated, surprising even himself in his ability to remain aloof in her presence.

"No," she replied simply, steadily, and with an eerie lack of an expression. She folded her arms on the tabletop and watched him without blinking, hesitating before speaking again. "I've been watching you."

"Oh? Then you've just come to make sure I keep word to your new buddies, I suppose."

"No," she said again.

"...then why is it you've come?"

"You tell me."

His eyes narrowed at her incredulously. "How should I know? I don't know you."

"Don't you?"

"I-... I thought I did." His stare grew harder at her emotionless face, and before long frustration forced him to look away. He held his forehead in his hands, fingers now lost in his hair.

There was a mute pause between the two wardens, and the white noise of jovial patrons faded in its unimportance. And then: "What happened?"

Alistair lifted his head almost immediately once the question was uttered, shooting her another look of disbelief. "_What happened?_" he repeated. "You know exactly what happened! You allowed that traitor into our ranks!" he snapped. "I thought... I-I thought I actually meant something to you... But clearly not as much as _he_ did."

"The Grey Wardens aren't the noble order you wanted them to be."

"That's abundantly clear."

"You hate the 'Wardens and you hate Loghain, but you're still letting them rule your life. Let it go, Alistair."

"Right, just let it go. As if it were so easy. Tell me, if it were Howe instead of Loghain being made a Grey Warden, if he was allowed to live despite everything he had done... - how would you feel?"

"Angry."

"So it's okay for you, but not me, then? Fantastic. Thanks for coming all this way to let me know." Embittered now, Alistair reached for a nearby bottle. It was whipped away from him, however, and thrown at the wall. The glass expectantly shattered upon impact, leaving a stain on the wall. "Oh, _that's_ nice," he muttered sarcastically. She resumed her emotionless state immediately afterward, and surprisingly none of the men and women in the room with them seemed to notice the wasted drink. Or the fact that the oh-so-legendary Hero of Ferelden was among them, either, for that matter. She wasn't exactly hiding who she was, now that he stopped to think about it.

"Oghren was the drunk, not you," she stated, and for a moment he thought he could hear trace amounts of despondency in her voice.

"And you were my friend. Things change."

"Don't do this, Alistair. Please. Your life isn't over. The Grey Wardens aren't worth this, Loghain's not worth this..." As she spoke, her words grew ladened with regret and her brows knitted together in a pleading look. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand toward his. He flinched. "I'm not worth this."

"What, do you really think you can just come in here, give one of your pep talks, and everything will magically be better? It doesn't work like that. Not this time."

"Then why am I here?"

"I... I don't know. I almost wish you would just leave me alone."

"You always forget why I come here." Once again, she carefully reached to take his hand. This time he didn't recoil. He stared down at the table as her words settled in the air, and heaved a heavy sigh. The love of his life, a woman who had broken his heart and crushed his every ideal, died years ago. Vague memories of her previous visits on nights he was particularly intoxicated slowly began sifting in.

"Yes, I..." he began, sighing in a loss of words.

"You may not want it, but you know you need to pick you life up again. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"And just what am I supposed to do?" he asked in weak defiance.

"You'll figure it out."

Before he could say anything more to her, he could hear another familiar voice calling out his name. He looked up to find the source, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Teagan was swiftly approaching to take her place.


End file.
